


Too Much of a Good Thing

by vulcanhearted (wildewinged)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Overstimulation, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildewinged/pseuds/vulcanhearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this prompt at the Pinto Kinkmeme: Zach is riding Chris. Chris has already come, but Zach isn't quite done yet, and he doesn't plan on stopping until he is, no matter how much Chris begs him to. (Make it consensual, please. Chris knew this was coming beforehand/has a safeword/whatever.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much of a Good Thing

As soon as Zach starts sinking down on his cock, Chris is pretty sure this isn’t going to work. 

“Zach?” he manages, blown out sharp on a gasp. 

“Hmm?” Zach answers, and it’s much too calm for someone who’s just paused in working a (pretty sizable, Chris is comfortable saying) dick into his ass. Sure, there’s an attractive flush high on his cheekbones, breath coming a little fast, but it’s nothing on Chris, who’s sucking in air like a fish out of water and can feel the heat under his skin that means he’s blushing lobster-red all the way down his chest. 

A sharp pinch to his nipple makes him yelp and buck in surprise, which does interesting things for the both of them as Zach slips down an inch more and clenches. Hard. “Use your words, Christopher,” he says, and Chris is pleased that Zach’s gasping too now. 

The way Zach’s fingers are sliding over his smarting nipple again is more threatening than arousing, so Chris gets some words in order. “Yeah, so it’s been a while since I’ve had my dick in anything but a mouth,” he says. 

Zach cocks an eyebrow. “Complaining?” 

“Not at all,” and that’s the goddamn truth; he could write poetry about the way Zach fucks him. Not that he has. Or would, necessarily. And if he had, that particular moleskin would be somewhere Zach would never, _ever_ find it. “I’m just not sure about my staying pow- fuck,” he barks, because Zach decided it was prime time to seat himself fully, because he is a dick. 

“What was that?” 

“Not fucking fair, asshole,” Chris says, breath sighing out as Zach starts a slow roll of his hips. He loses his train of thought then, hands sliding up the lean length of Zach’s hairy thighs before settling on sharp hipbones. Watching the easy shift of Zach’s muscles is mesmerizing; his thumbs shift to run through the thick hair low on his stomach and Zach twitches gratifyingly. 

A delicious warmth builds low in his belly, and Chris starts rolling his hips in counterpoint to Zach, chasing the clenching heat of him. Zach moans low in his throat at that, and Chris reaches for his dick, fingers just slipping over the first slick of precome before Zach bats his hand away. 

“Not done yet,” Zach says, voice gone low and gravelly. He drops his hands to Chris’ chest, just this side of too heavy, giving him the leverage to really start moving, hard slams of his hips on the downstroke. Chris hears an embarrassingly high whine leave his throat, unbidden. 

“Zach, come on, I can’t -“ he gasps, hands scrabbling to fist in the sheets. 

“Go ahead,” Zach says, all hooded eyes and twisty smirk. “But, just so you’re aware, I don’t plan to stop until I’m _quite_ satisfied.” Another exuberant roll of his hips makes it clear exactly what he means. Chris groans, trying in vain to still the desperate upward twitches of his hips, utterly helpless under Zach’s weight. 

“C’mon, Christopher, you know you want to,” Zach croons, dropping his head to suck heated kisses under his jaw, and Chris sobs and clutches at Zach’s bony shoulders and his hips jerk once, twice into Zach, and he’s gone, eyes shut tight as he shoots, a rush of warmth suffusing his heavy limbs. Zach sits back again, a rush of cool air filling the space where he’d been, but his fingertips draw hot lines across Chris’ cheekbone instead as he murmurs, “Beautiful.” 

And then the bastard starts moving again.

Chris’ eyes flutter open again, and he lets out a confused little moan; Zach’s clearly being careful not to let his softening dick slip out, movements easy and slow, but it’s still tight wet heat on nerves that haven’t quite decided if they’ve had enough or not. “Zaa-ach,” he complains, swallowing hard. 

Zach just raises an eyebrow, tilting his hips until he finds an angle that sets his eyes fluttering closed. “You know what to say if you really want to be done,” he says, rolling his hips and smiling contentedly, the very picture of happy debauchery. 

And Chris does know his safe word, and his muscles have started to twitch at the now-very-clearly-too-much stimulation, jerking up into Zach and away in senseless desperation to get away, or maybe get more. There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to buck Zach right the hell off of him. There’s another part, though, that’s - not content, exactly - satisfied to watch the play of pleasure across Zach’s face instead. So he clenches his teeth, lets his head fall back to the pillows, and lets Zach have his way. 

He hears a soft, breathless laugh, and then Zach’s settling more firmly over him, a hand smoothing over his belly - oh fuck, Zach’s scooping up his come. There’s the slap of slick flesh, and Chris knows Zach’s jacking himself with it, and he shudders despite himself, toes curling eyes screwing shut at the odd shivery pleasure of it. “Zach, please,” he says, and he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. 

“God, Chris, you have no idea how you look like this,” Zach says, low and hot, and his breath speeds. Chris tries to brace, but when the first spatter of Zach’s come hits his chest and he clenches around Chris’ abused cock there’s nothing he can do but let his eyes roll back and succumb to darkness. 

He jerks back to reality when some _asshole_ touches his poor, poor dick, sending a sparking shock down his spine. “Nooo,” he whines, eyes still shut tight as he bats ineffectually at his assailant. 

“Shh, I’m trying to clean you up,” comes Zach’s voice, clearly fighting laughter even as he soothes. Chris squints down at him suspiciously; he is indeed holding a soft washcloth and giving Chris his very best attempt at innocent puppy eyes. “No funny business, I promise,” Zach adds. 

“Okay,” Chris says, and Zach’s true to his word; dabbing gently and efficiently at the mess as Chris squirms. Even the soft cloth over his belly makes Chris’ muscles jump, but after Zach’s returned from throwing the cloth in the hamper, Chris tugs him down to the bed. Zach fits himself to Chris’ back, looping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“Too much?” he asks, and though the question sounds deliberately casual Chris can hear the undercurrent of worry. 

Chris is feeling decidedly drowsy, but he says, “That was kind of the point, wasn’t it?” 

Zach pokes him. “You know what I mean.” 

Smiling, Chris shakes his head. “I’m good. Now cuddle me while I nap.” 

Through his drowsy haze, just before he falls asleep, he thinks he might hear “You got it, Sleeping Beauty.”


End file.
